Perfection
by VioTanequil
Summary: He was too perfect. It was not possible. Rated T for Language.


Nobody is perfect. And they should have seen it earlier. Nipped it in the bud when it had just appeared. But no, it wasn't to be. For all of them, perfection was something to aspire to, something to want to be like, to want to emulate. And so they had watched him, interacted with him, learnt from him. They wanted perfection, and he had it.

It was apparent in his every gesture, his every move. The kind smile, the reassuring pats, the gestures which touched the hearts of those close to him, and the words passed around to those not as close. Yes, they all respected him. Every single one of them. He was loved by the people, respected by his fellows, and preferred by his superiors.

He was always there to help out, always there with a few words to lighten up their days, always there, just there, a reassuring presence. And that was it, really. He was always there. He was too perfect. It was not possible.

And they believed in him because they wanted to, not because he was believable. They believed in him because they yearned to be like that. They yearned to have someone in their midst like that. And they overlooked the many little signs that might have indicated otherwise. Nah, there was no way he would be that kind of person. He was brilliant, he was fantastic, and he was every bit the ideal shinigami. How could he be wrong?

It was much more likely that Zaraki-taicho was that kind of person. Or that Kuchiki-taicho was that kind of person. Or Kurotsuchi-taicho, really. And it was odd, that when it happened, it was the three most unexpected ones, the three of them so perfect that no one had ever thought it possible, the three of them, that no one could think anything bad about had been the ones.

They saw Zaraki as a monster, a beast, a person with no feelings except bloodlust, with nothing to strive for in life except fighting, killing, winning. But then, they must have overlooked the presence of the little pink blur constantly rocketing off his shoulder. They must have overlooked the fact that said pink blur had been raised by him, had been taught by him, and had been nurtured by him. Sure, she was not perfect. Sure, she was not even the ideal child, as Madarame or Ayesegawa would attest to, but she was happy. She was content when her Ken-chan was content. What more could they want?

Kuchiki was the cold and distant one. They did not understand him, and he did not bother with trying to understand them. Constantly giving off the air of being superior to them, he kept his distance, and so did they. And perhaps, that was why they did not realize that that was what he disliked the most. He disliked being so superior, but he did not have a choice. That superiority was what made him who he was. And really, he was not a sadistic bastard out to torture his subordinates.

And Mayuri was the one that half Seireitei feared, and the other half disliked. They did not care about it, labeling him as a freak, and that it was a wonder he had been promoted to Captain of the Twelfth Division. They did not know him, and they did not bother to try. They did not pause to look behind the mask and find a person so passionate about his field that he would stop at nothing to pursue what he wanted to find out. Mayuri was content with his laboratories, content with his subordinates even though he constantly pushed them to work harder and work smarter. He knew that they really cared about the field. He really cared about his field, and he did not care what was going on elsewhere.

Perfection? Mayuri knows there is no such thing as perfection. He refuses to acknowledge it. Perfection means that the life of a scientist is over. Perfection means that there is nothing more to strive to, and he cannot and will not have that. Perfection does not exist. To him, perfection is hell. Sure, he strives for it, but not the same type of perfection. For him, what he wants is to be better, and better, and with his knowledge, further improve what he already has. He does not want it to be perfect. He just wants everything to be better than it already is.

Byakuya is the closest to perfection amongst the three. And he knows it. But really, he is not perfect. He is not close to it either. Abarai would be able to account for that. Sure, Sixth runs like a well-oiled machine, but that is because they want to, because they understand the point in doing their duties, in finishing their work so that they have the free time to do everything else. Sixth is no doubt a well-run division. But he himself, no, he is not perfect. He fulfills his duties, does everything like the perfect head of clan that he is, but deep down inside, he is not content. He knows he is not content, but there is nothing he can do about it, so he does nothing about it.

Kenpachi snorts at the word. Nothing is perfect, and why would anyone want to be perfect anyway? It's pointless, it's impossible, and hell, it's no fun. He doesn't want it. He doesn't see the point in it. Why be perfect when you can be yourself? He knows his squad is far from perfect. His subordinates, hell, the fucking retards are far from perfect. They are as far from perfect as a squad can possibly be. After all, no squad consumes more alcohol than the Eleventh Squad. (Except for Eighth Squad, but then, it's mostly Kyouraku, and not the squad.) But he doesn't give a damn about perfection, because he doesn't want it. Simple as that.

And so, it was a rude shock to them all, to the remaining seven of them when it happened. When three of their members left to pursue perfection, to pursue something that was unattainable, but they so strongly believed in. And then they began to wonder when they had stopped suspecting the right people, and when they had started to mistrust members of their own.

Perfection. Such a simple concept, such a silly concept, really. Everyone with one eye and some common sense knows it. It is unattainable, it is impossible, and if it is there, it is fake. And nobody is perfect. Everybody knows it, but not many believe it. Most want to be perfect, but really, what's the point?


End file.
